When Silence Met Madness

In the tenth year of my diagnosis with selective mutism, my mother decided it was time to bring home a little brother for me from an orphanage.

Her eyes immediately landed on a boy in the back row, but the head of the orphanage opposed without hesitation.

"Ms. Lane, this kid has been nothing but trouble since he was small. Just two days ago, he made an old man on crutches play goalie. If you take him home, your life will never be peaceful!"

I looked on without the slightest interest.

My mother, however, was exhilarated. Pointing at the boy, she declared excitedly, "Then, he's exactly the one I want!"

And suddenly, lines of bullet comments scrolled before me.

'The mom cracks me up. Her eyes practically sparkled like spotlights.'

'Our brooding female lead grew up friendless. Her mom's been worrying about that for years. Now she's found this rascal, there's no way she's letting go.'

'Honestly, fate is wild. The mom instantly picks her future son-in-law. In their past lives, the female lead died trying to save him. Now that they've both been reborn, maybe they'll finally get a second chance together.'

A Brother I Didn't Ask For

Seeing the lines of comments scrolling by, I stayed calm, expression unreadable.

Since I was little, I'd known the truth: everything in this world was a lie.

All of us were just characters in a story, made for someone else's amusement like toys. Because of that, I'd grown up lonely and strange and ended up with selective mutism.

I didn't think much of it myself.

It was only my mother who suffered, always trying to make me happy.

"Let go of me! That old man only broke his leg. He can still move his hands. Why can't he be our goalie? And anyway, he wanted to exercise himself—"

The little boy struggled against the hold but couldn't move. Hearing him, Edith Sinclair, the head of the orphanage, felt the veins in her forehead throb with anger as she shouted, "Quiet!"

Then, letting out a tired sigh, she rubbed her forehead and said helplessly, "Then, why yesterday did you hand Ms. Linton's bedpan to Leo and make him drink from it?"

The boy just went "oh" casually, sticking out his tongue in a cheeky grin.

"Leo likes sweet stuff, and Ms. Linton has diabetes, so I thought he should taste it—"

He didn't even finish his sentence before Edith slammed her hand against his head.

He yelped, baring his teeth in an exaggerated scream, quickly begging for mercy.

I couldn't help frowning.

It was so noisy.

I really didn't understand why my mother even came here. For someone like me, what was the point of having playmates?

I was just about to tug my mother away when she suddenly stepped forward, warmly taking Edith's hand, a satisfied smile lighting her face.

"Ms. Sinclair, I want to adopt him. I'd like to finalize the adoption today."

Edith panicked, sweat pouring down her face,